


Hope Found and Lost

by DKNC



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-02
Updated: 2014-09-02
Packaged: 2018-02-15 21:35:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2244315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DKNC/pseuds/DKNC
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This fic was written for Day 2 of Ned x Cat Week on tumblr which required stories from the era of Robert's Rebellion.</p><p>Ned Stark rides out from Riverrun after only a fortnight with his new wife, and the events of the Rebellion find him reflecting upon the days and nights he spent there and wondering what might now become of the hope he'd thought he'd found for his future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hope Found and Lost

Ned checked his saddlebags one last time and patted his horse’s neck before handing the reins to the boy beside him and turning to look at the little group of people who stood waiting not far away. His eyes easily found Catelyn Tully, _No--Catelyn Stark now--she is my wife,_ standing between her father and her younger brother. Her sister Lysa, who was now Lady Arryn stood on the other side of Lord Hoster with her eyes fixed steadfastly on the ground before her as Lord Jon strode in her direction to bid her farewell.

Catelyn’s eyes looked directly at Ned, however. He could not pretend to know his new wife well, or to know her at all really, but he did know she faced things head on, and he liked that about her. With a murmured, “Wait here,” at the boy who held the reins, he began to walk toward the little group of Tullys, keeping his eyes on Catelyn’s until he stood directly before her and her father.

Then he turned to Lord Hoster. “My lord,” he said formally. “I thank you for your hospitality, and I wish you a rapid recovery from your injuries.”

“Don’t you worry about that, young Eddard,” the older man said. “I’m already a good deal better than I was after Stoney Sept. You tell King Robert I will be with him very soon.”

Ned nodded. “He will be glad of it.” He looked again toward Catelyn who stood patiently regarding him, waiting to be addressed. Her copper hair was braided back neatly away from her face, but it still shone in the early morning light, and he had a sudden image of it as it had looked even earlier that morning, splayed out upon the pillow in every direction as he’d thrust himself inside her, wishing to lose himself one last time in her warmth before leaving her.

His jaw tightened, and he forced the memory from him. It would hardly be helpful to ride out from Riverrun with a stiff cock, and that is surely where such thoughts would lead him. Looking back to Lord Hoster, he said, “I also thank you for the protection you continue to offer my lady wife. While my brother Benjen will gladly welcome her at Winterfell, I would not have her leave her home until she is quite prepared.”

“Little Cat was my daughter long before she was your wife, Lord Stark,” Tully reminded him. “She is welcome to remain at Riverrun until you should require her to go to Winterfell. She may remain here until your return if you like.”

 _Little Cat._ Her father’s affectionate use of Catelyn’s childhood nickname made Ned feel even more ashamed of the thoughts he had not managed to push completely from his mind. _She is not a child,_ he told himself firmly. _She is your wife, and there is no shame in a man wanting his wife._

“I still thank you, my lord. I would have her safe and well and happy in my absence,” he said.

Lord Hoster nodded as if those words pleased him and then turned to face Jon Arryn who had apparently finished saying whatever he had spoken to Lysa and now stood waiting to speak to the goodfather who was younger than himself.

Ned moved to stand completely in front of Catelyn then. “My lady,” he said, taking her hands.

“My lord,” she responded in her clear voice with her eyes dry. “I shall pray for your victory and your safe return.”

 _Be safe, Ned,_ she had said when he left her bed that morning. _Be safe and come back to take me to Winterfell._ She hadn’t cried then either, but her face had been less guarded and she’d held him a bit more tightly than usual as he bent to kiss her one last time. He knew she didn’t love him any more than he could truly love her after no more than a fortnight’s acquaintance, but he had seen true concern on that lovely face.

“I am grateful for your prayers, my lady,” he answered her now. “I will pray for your continued health and safety as well.”

 _I cannot promise my safe return, my lady,_ he’d responded in her room, quickly amending ‘my lady’ to ‘Cat’ when she’d frowned at him. _But I do promise to do all in my power to come back to you whole._ He’d taken a long section of her lovely hair in his hand then and let his fingers move down it to the end, watching it fall over them to land back against the pale, lightly freckled skin of her shoulder. _I shall miss you._ He’d surprised himself when he said it, but he’d realized it was true. 

His words had seemed to surprise her, too, and the blue eyes had widened, looking directly into his as was her way. Then she had smiled, and he had struggled against the desire to lay her back down on the bed again at the sight of it. _I shall miss you as well, Ned. And I shall be glad of your return._

“May your gods and mine smile upon us, my lord, and keep us both safe until we shall see each other again.”

He nodded. “Aye. May they do that.” He gave her a small smile. “Mayhap with twice the gods to watch over us, we’ll have twice the protection.”

He was rewarded with the sound of her musical laugh. A brief laugh, reserved and almost formal here in the open courtyard--but a laugh nonetheless. He bent and raised her hand to his lips, recalling how odd it had felt to kiss that hand in this courtyard a fortnight ago, not knowing her at all, but knowing he must wed and bed her in a day’s time. Yet as his lips touched the skin of her hand now, he thought of all the rest of her skin his lips had now touched, and he found himself lingering over this formal gesture of farewell longer than he likely should.

When he did stand again to look at her face, he saw that it was flushed, and he wondered, _hoped?,_ if she had been thinking of the same things he had. He swallowed. “Farewell, my lady.”

“Farewell, my lord,” she said in a voice just slightly breathier than it had been before.

He turned to young Edmure long enough to pat him on the head and bid him look after his sisters while their husbands were away and then walked back past Lord Hoster to bid his goodsister a brief farewell. She looked miserable, but then Lysa always looked miserable as far as Ned could see. She barely responded to his words, and Ned silently thanked the gods that Lady Catelyn was so unlike her sister, for all that they had similar looks. Privately, the thought his wife by far the prettier of the two as well, but he felt himself rather uncharitable in most of his thoughts about Lysa, so he tried not to think upon her too much. He knew her even less than he knew Catelyn, after all, and he did know that his wife loved and worried about her sister a great deal. He certainly could understand that as Lyanna was never far from his mind.

Jon had already returned to his horse, so Ned looked one last time toward his wife of so few days, nodded to her and turned to walk to his own horse. As he rode out from Riverrun, he did not look back. He forcibly put thoughts of soft pale skin, hair like fire, and blue eyes a man could drown in out of his head, setting his mind firmly on Lyanna, and what must be accomplished to win her freedom.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

They met up with the main force of Robert’s army within another fortnight. While camped in the Riverlands, awaiting word of the movements of the loyalist forces, Robert grew ever more impatient to smash Rhaegar Targaryen and Ned grew ever more impatient to be gone to King’s Landing and find his sister. Yet, Ned knew that charging ahead with no plan made little sense at all. A great deal of warfare was simply waiting around in order to be well prepared for the battles when they did come. He could deal with his own impatience, but trying to curb Robert’s nearly drove him to madness.

For all that his friend claimed to fight for his great love of Lyanna, his preferred method of expending his pent up energy and battle lust was enjoying the company of whores and various camp followers. He often encouraged Ned to join him in these pursuits and laughed loudly at Ned’s protestations that he was now a married man.

“You’d barely allow yourself any fun as an unmarried man, Ned!” Robert bellowed as they sat beside the campfire, and Robert’s eyes followed an ample hipped young blonde woman as she carried jugs of water back and forth from the nearby stream. “Now, look at that one there! She’d give you a soft ride, I wager.”

“I will not dishonor myself or my wife, Robert,” Ned said simply.

“Your wife!” Robert laughed. “You barely the know the Tully girl, Ned, and it’ll be a long time before you’ve got her back underneath you!” When Ned chose not to respond to that, Robert shook his head. “Ah, well. If you’re determined to keep yourself to one girl, at least she’s a pretty thing. How was she then? Warm and willing or too ladylike to even move when you’re rutting inside her?” 

“Robert! You go too far. I will not have you speak of my lady wife so!”

“Gods, Ned! I know you fucked her. I mean, you’re the last man who’d wed a woman and not make it all legal and binding. And I know you like women because I’ve gotten you drunk enough to venture into a brothel on occasion, and I watched you nearly drool over the lovely Lady Ashara back at Harrenhal. So, tell me! What was she like? Your brother seemed to find her a bit hesitant, but warm enough, as I recall. He thought he might quite enjoy bedding her. Tell me how it felt to take her maidenhead.”

Ned had no desire whatsoever to talk or even think about Brandon bedding Catelyn. He knew well enough that she was never meant to be his without that sort of painful reminder. “I will not discuss my wife in such a manner with you or anyone else, Robert,” he insisted. “And if you persist in such talk, I shall retire to my tent.”

“Aw, don’t piss yourself over it, Ned,” Robert said irritably. “I thought it might be a lark to hear a tale from you for a change rather than always telling you one of my own, but you needn’t go anywhere. No, I think I shall be the one to go---right over there.” He pointed at the blonde woman as he spoke. “After all, no reason to leave the poor girl cold tonight just because you don’t want a ride.” 

Robert’s booming laugh rang out as he stood up from the fire and walked briskly over to the woman. Within a matter of moments, she was accompanying him in the direction of his tent, his hand groping at her arse as they walked.

Ned frowned and rose to go to his own tent. _Tell me how it felt to take her maidenhead._

He quickened his pace and tried to put Robert’s words out of his head. _Brandon thought he might quite enjoy bedding her._

He entered his tent and flung himself down on his cot in anger and frustration. _Tell me how it felt to take her maidenhead._

And suddenly, he was back there in Riverrun, shoved naked into a bedchamber by a group of laughing women who’d japed and groped at him, some of them even boldly reaching for his cock as they’d completely disrobed him. Catelyn had been carried into the room before him, and she’d stood there, naked as he, her back to him at first with some of her hair falling down from its elaborate style, no doubt pulled free by the rough hands of the men who’d unclothed her. Her skin had been almost white in the firelight and the hair that fell down her back stood out in bright contrast.

He could see her there now, the long graceful legs, the round curve of her arse, and the slender waist with the red hair falling almost down to it.

_“Are you all right, my lady?” he asked._

_She nodded without turning around. “There’s wine,” she said in a voice that trembled only slightly. “On the table there.”_

_He turned his eyes away from her nakedness to look for the wine, and seeing it, he quickly walked to the table and filled two glasses._

_“I think mayhap we both could use a glass,” he said._

_She nodded again, but didn’t move._

_“My lady . . .” he began, but then he remembered what she’d asked him to call her the day before. “Cat . . .please do not be afraid of me. I have no wish to hurt you.”_

_She did turn around then, and he had to struggle to keep his eyes on her face because he got a glimpse of the creamy skin and pink nipples of her breasts and just that glimpse made it a bit harder for him to breathe._

_“I am not afraid of you, my lord . . .Ned,” she said. Then she bit her lip. “But I confess I am afraid . . .a little.” She never took her eyes from his as she spoke, and he marveled at her courage._

_“Here, my lady,” he said, walking toward her with both wine glasses, desperately trying to forget that they were both naked, but uncomfortably aware that his cock had already started to stiffen simply from viewing as much of her flesh as he had. She will think me no better than a beast in rut, he thought miserably._

_He handed her a glass, and they both drank. “Are you cold?” he asked her then. “Would you like to sit down?”_

_“I am warm enough,” she said. “And I fear there is nowhere to sit . . .well, nowhere except . . .” Her eyes flicked briefly in the direction of the bed._

_He looked around the room then and saw that there were no chairs. Aside from the small table upon which the wine had been placed, the only item of furniture in the room was the large bed. There were no robes or coverings available either, save for the bedding. It would seem the room had been carefully set up to get the two of them into the bed and fulfilling their duty as man and wife as quickly as possible._

_He walked to a window and looked outside, although he could see little in the darkness. He knew what he must do but had no idea how to begin. He’d lain with only a handful of women, all of whom had known more about the business of bedding than he did. He’d certainly never bedded a maiden before. He didn’t want to hurt her._

_“My lord?” she asked from the other side of the room, and when he turned to look at her he saw concern in those blue eyes. “Are you displeased with me?”_

_“Displeased?” he repeated, stunned. The young woman before him was easily one of the most beautiful girls he had ever seen. “No, my lady. You are not displeasing at all.”_

_“But you refuse to look at me,” she said._

_“I am looking at you now, my la . . .Cat.” Her name did not come to his lips easily, but she had asked it of him, and he wanted to please her. Gods knew, he didn’t want her thinking him somehow displeased by her in any way._

_“I mean . . .” She hesitated, and he watched the color flood her cheeks. “You do not look at . . .the rest of me.”_

_“Oh,” he said stupidly. Of course, she hadn’t been able to see how his eyes had wandered over every inch of the back of her, and she had no idea how difficult he found it to keep his gaze focused only above her neck. He’d meant to be respectful, but it seemed she took his behavior for disinterest. He swallowed, “My lady, I assure you I wish to look at every bit of you, but I would not have you feel frightened or ashamed.”_

_“It is no shame to be naked in front of one’s husband.” The words were spoken bravely, and she raised her chin just a trifle as she said them, but he could still see the fear on her face for all she tried to hide it beneath her brave words._

_“No,” he said softly. “It isn’t.” He walked back until he stood only a few feet from her, and he very deliberately lowered his eyes from her face. He inhaled sharply at his first good long look at those lovely full breasts and swallowed hard, knowing that she must have heard him. His eyes then moved still lower over the white skin of her belly as her body narrowed just above her navel to a waist made for hands to be placed on either side. His own hands almost reached out of their own accord. When his eyes moved lower still and beheld the bright triangle of curls at the juncture of her thighs, he felt his already half-hard cock stiffen almost painfully. He swallowed once more and forced himself to meet her eyes again._

_“You are beautiful, my lady. You are very, very beautiful, Cat.”_

_She flushed once more, and he saw to his great delight and further discomfort that the color did not stop at her cheeks. Her entire upper body seemed to glow pink, and he knew he’d never seen anything more lovely. He drained his wine glass._

_“I don’t suppose we can stand here drinking wine all night, my lord,” she said, after taking a fairly healthy drink from her own glass and holding it out to him._

_“No,” he said, and he took the glass from her and returned it to the table beside his own. “May I kiss you, my lady?”_

_She took a step closer to him and nodded. “Yes, Ned.”_

_He felt awkward putting his hands anywhere on her naked flesh, but he couldn’t simply put his lips to hers without touching her, so he put his hands gently on her upper arms and then brought his face down to hers, tasting those lips for the first time other than the chaste ceremonial kiss they shared in the sept. She returned his kiss and did not hesitate to part her lips for him. It was a gentle, tender sort of kiss, and he thought it might have been quite sweet had they both not realized they had to do so much more._

_She was the braver of the two of them, and as they kissed, she moved her body against his so that her breasts touched the skin of his chest. He groaned involuntarily at the contact, and moved one of his hands from her arm to reach around and pull her more tightly against him. That caused his hard cock to rub against her lower belly, and she gasped, breaking the kiss and pulling away._

_He looked at her face and saw her blue eyes were wide with fear. “I am sorry, my lady,” he said, somewhat raggedly. “I have no wish to frighten you.”_

_“No . . .” she said. “I am sorry. It is only that . . .” She shook her head. “I don’t know what to do, Ned,” she admitted. “I don’t want to be afraid, but . . .”_

_“It is all right,” he told her, stepping carefully back up to her, this time putting his hands in her hair, careful not to let their bodies touch. He had wanted to put his hands in that hair since he’d seen it, and now he gently worked his fingers through it, somewhat clumsily undoing what remained of her wedding hairstyle. His ministrations to her hair did seem to calm her somewhat. “It is all right, Catelyn. I shall do nothing before you are ready.”_

_“I am ready,” she said firmly, and pulling his fingers from her hair, she took one of his hands in hers and led him to the bed where she lay upon her back and looked up at him._

_With only a brief hesitation, he lay down beside her. The ache in his cock was terrible now, but he could not rush her. Would not rush her. He lay on his side and turned her to face him, putting his hand on her waist as he kissed her once more. She did not resist him. He began to move his hand over her body as he deepened the kiss and then pressed her onto her back again so that he could move himself above her._

_Her blue eyes looked at him with trepidation, but she nodded. He put his hands on her breasts then and began to tease the nipples with his thumbs as he cupped the fullness of them and gently squeezed. She stiffened at first, but then relaxed into his touch. He felt very uncertain of himself, his mind wanting only to somehow make this without fear or pain for her, his cock wanting only to be inside her._

_He pressed a few soft kisses to her neck, and she put her arms around him, her fingers clutching at his shoulders and back. Encouraged, he moved one hand to her sex and touched the sensitive flesh hidden beneath those bright soft curls. She gasped and tried to move away. “What . . .” she started to ask._

_“It’s all right, Cat,” he said as soothingly as he knew how, and it startled him a bit to realize it was the same voice he used to gentle a panicked horse. “This . . .this will help you. If I touch you with my fingers first, it will make it easier for . . .” He swallowed. “For the rest,” he finished._

_She looked up at him and nodded, the fear still evident in her blue eyes, but he saw trust in them as well which both warmed him and terrified him. He resumed his attention to her sex, and he could feel her becoming slick beneath his touch. He also felt movements of her hips beneath his hands that he thought were rather involuntary on her part. He looked at her face and found her eyes closed, her features expressing a mixture of pleasure and apprehension. Gods, she was beautiful. He didn’t think he could wait much longer._

_“Cat?” he asked softly. She opened her eyes. “Do you think you are ready?”_

_She bit her lip, but nodded. He took his cock in his hand and nearly lost it at the touch of his own fingers as painfully hard as he was at that point. Carefully, he guided himself to the opening of her sex, and pushed the tip inside her. He thought he might die of the sensation of it, but she drew in her breath sharply--a sound of discomfort, not pleasure, and he stopped._

_“Is . . .is that it?” she asked, breathlessly._

_“No,” he told her as gently as he could under the strain. “I must go further.”_

_She closed her eyes briefly. “Then do it,” she said. “Please. Do it quickly.”_

_Taking a deep breath, he pushed forward, feeling a slight resistance which gave almost at once as he buried himself within her. The unbelievable pleasure of feeling her completely surrounding him was offset by her short cry of pain._

_“Are you well, Cat?” he asked her desperately, wanting so badly to move within her, but wanting more to take the hurt and pain out of her eyes._

_“Please,” she said. “Just do what you must, my lord. I am well enough.”_

_“I don’t want to hurt you.”_

_“We must do this, Ned! Just . . .finish. Please.”_

_She never took her arms from around him. She never pushed him away. She held him tightly as he began to move within her, thrusting as gently as he could at first, but losing most of his self-control as he neared his climax. He cried out like an animal when he spilled his seed within her, and then collapsed onto her, feeling entirely spent._

_He quickly rolled off her, though, to spare her his weight and only then did he see the tears on her cheeks._

_“My lady . . .” he said, distraught and guilty and unsure of what else he could say._

_“Thank you,” she whispered._

_“Thank you?” he repeated. “I have hurt you, my lady, and I beg your forgiveness.”_

_“No,” she said, not hiding her tears, but not crying any more either. “The act hurt me. Septa warned me there would be pain because that is the way of things for a maiden. You were careful of me. And I thank you for that.”_

_“I . . .I had no wish to cause you pain.”_

_“I know. Did . . .did I give you pleasure though, my lord? Did you . . .like it?”_

_He had no idea how to answer that. He hated it. Hated that he had caused her pain and tears. Hated that she’d been forced to wed a man she did not want. Hated that having taken her maidenhead, he would leave in a very few days to possibly never return, making her a widow. And yet, he had found pleasure for himself, gods forgive him. She was beautiful, and even now as he lay beside her, his treacherous mind imagined bedding her again, imagined doing many things with her._

_He looked at her expectant face and realized that she wanted him to have liked it. She was so dutiful, she would feel a failure if she thought him less than pleased with her. “Yes,” he said simply. “I liked it very much.” He liked her very much, he realized._

_“Good,” she said. “I think we should sleep now.”_

_“Aye,” he said. He rose from the bed to put out the candles that still burned, but the fire in the hearth made the room still fairly bright and much warmer than he would have liked. He lay down beside her again, careful not to touch her. She had pulled the covers over her body, but already hot as he was, he had no need for covers over him._

_“Ned?” she asked him softly._

_“Yes, my lady?”_

_“My septa says that after the first few times, it need not be unpleasant for a wife. Is that true?”_

_She had her face turned away from him, but he could imagine how red that face must be as she asked her question._

_“I confess that I have less experience in such matters than many men, my lady. But I do believe that is the case.”_

_“Good,” she said, and then she spoke no more._

_As he fell asleep beside this beautiful stranger, he vowed that he would find a way to make the business of bedding as pleasurable for her as it would undoubtedly always be for him._

As he lay alone on his cot and listened to the sound of the army bedding down for the night, Ned closed his eyes and thought about Robert rutting away at the blonde water girl, and frowned. _I remember well how it felt to take her maidenhead,_ he thought. _And it is not something to be told over drinks by a fire._

_____________________________________________________________________________________

“Lord Stark! A letter!”

Ned turned belatedly at the boy’s greeting. He still wasn’t used to being addressed as Lord Stark for all he seemed to hear it a hundred times a day. Lord Stark was his father. Lord Stark should have been his brother. Never should the title be applied to him. And yet it was.

The boy ran through the groups of men milling about, waving a roll of parchment and continuing to call out “A letter for you, Lord Stark!”

Ned frowned. Letters were difficult to send to an army in motion. One could only make a guess at what castle or keep might be nearest the army’s encampment and send a raven there, hoping that the castle’s inhabitants would send it on by a rider and that the army hadn’t moved. Letters not of any great import were often simply held at various castles awaiting the troops’ return. The letters most likely to be sent forward were often those that held grave tidings. When the boy reached him and handed him the rolled parchment, Ned could see it looked rather battered, and he wondered how many places it had been before reaching him. It had also obviously been opened more than once, although enough of the original seal remained that he could tell it came from Riverrun.

“Thank you,” he said rather absently to the boy as he regarded the letter as he might a venomous snake. Had some harm befallen his wife? Was there trouble near Riverrun? Not all the River Lords had followed Lord Tully in joining the Rebellion. The men with Jon Darry somewhere to the south of the Trident were proof of that. While Ned feared little for Benjen as the North was easily defensible, Riverrun was another story. The Riverlands were vast and open and full of men whose loyalties were at least suspect. Sometimes, Ned regretted not ordering his wife to go north to Winterfell immediately after their marriage, but he simply felt unable to take everything she’d ever known away from her all at once. He contemplated sending instructions to her now, sending her to his brother.

“Are you going to glare at that letter all day, or are you going to read it?” Robert’s voice interrupted his rapidly spiraling thoughts. 

Ned looked up at his friend, and Robert’s teasing expression softened a bit. “It doesn’t have to be bad news, Ned,” he said. “We’ve been moving around quite a bit. Who knows when this letter left Riverrun?”

“That’s what worries me,” Ned said darkly. Sighing, he broke what appeared to be at least the third seal on the parchment, and unrolled his letter.

 _My lord,_ it began, and Ned could actually hear Catelyn’s voice speak the words. 

_I hope this letter finds you well, and that you are meeting with success in your endeavors. I write to inform you that you have already achieved success in at least one matter. I am with child._

Ned stopped reading there, his eyes going strangely blurry and his breath suddenly short. 

“What is it, man? What’s wrong?” asked Robert in some alarm.

Ned only shook his head and forced his eyes back to the letter.

_I pray that you might receive this letter quickly so that you can share in my joy. I assure you I am well. I will be remaining in Riverrun at least until after our child is born. I hope that is all right with you. I would prefer to have my sister and those I know around me in this time._

_I pray daily for your safe return, but whatever happens, I would have you know of this child. Winterfell has an heir, and Winterfell shall be this child’s home. You have my word._

_Be safe,_

_Catelyn_

“What is it man? Tell me!” Robert insisted as Ned let the hand holding the parchment drop to his side and simply stared into the distance.

He looked at his friend. “I . . .” He found he couldn’t actually speak. Instead, he found himself grinning like an idiot and shoving the parchment into Robert’s hand.

Robert quickly scanned the letter and then raised his eyes to meet Ned’s and his face broke into his own grin. “Gods be good, Stark!” he boomed. “It would appear there’s more than ice in your cock after all!” Robert’s laughter echoed and drew the attention of many men to the two of them, and of course, Robert wasted no time in telling all of them the news Ned’s letter had contained.

Ned found himself being smacked heartily on the back and having more than one mug of ale shoved into his hands. Somewhere about the third mug, it occurred to him that he should not drink anymore as they honestly didn’t know precisely where Rhaegar and all his men were--only that they were somewhere south of the Trident and that their troops had reportedly been swelled by an influx of Dornishmen. Battle could come any day.

When he said as much to Robert, however, his friend had only laughed. “Well, it won’t come tonight, man! You’re entitled to celebrate an heir, Ned! And since I know I won’t get you to enjoy the charms of any of the girls around, you should at least enjoy your ale!”

Already a bit muddled from the ale, Ned laughed, thinking that only Robert would even suggest that a proper celebration of a trueborn heir might involve dishonoring your wife with another woman, but he accepted a fourth mug of ale. He sat up fairly late in the night as the men told him stories of waiting about during birthings, colicky infants, and marital relations after childbirth that ranged from hilarious to terrifying, and he smiled to see how truly joyful all of them seemed for his good fortune.

At last, it was only Robert and he left sitting by the fire, and Ned was somewhat surprised that his friend had not excused himself to find the company of a camp follower already.

“You’ll be a good father, Ned,” Robert said, suddenly sounding rather serious.

“I hope so,” Ned answered him. 

“I’d like to think I’ll make a good father . . .once we’ve gotten Lyanna back and we’re wedded,” Robert said thoughtfully.

Robert never wavered in his intent to wed Lya, in spite of everyone knowing that Rhaegar Targaryen had almost certainly dishonored her repeatedly by now. Robert never wavered, and Ned loved him for it.

“I’m certain you will,” Ned told him, although in truth he was anything but certain of that. He recalled little Mya, the pretty dark haired baby that Robert had gotten on a girl of the Vale. Robert had been fascinated by the babe for awhile, but his interest in her had quickly waned. Mayhap it would be different with his trueborn children. Ned hoped so.

“Ned,” Robert said, in that same serious tone. “About the rest of your wife’s letter. What she said about your child being raised in Winterfell. If you should fall and I should not, I’ll see that she keeps her word about that.”

Ned smiled at his friend, knowing that he meant what he said just as he knew such a promise was unnecessary. “I thank you,” he said, “But you won’t need to do that. Catelyn will do as she has said.”

“She’s a southron, Ned. You tell me all the time that none of us truly understands the North. Not even me. I’m afraid it’s possible that a southron lass might decide Winterfell’s a bit too cold and remote without a lord husband there for her.”

Ned nodded. “I fear she would find it so. But still she would go, Robert. She gave me her word. And not just in that letter.”

“She doesn’t want him born at Winterfell, though,” Robert protested.

“No, that isn’t it. She doesn’t want to birth her first child far from the only home she’s ever known, alone among strangers. I cannot fault her that.” He pulled the letter from where he’d stashed it in his doublet and looked at the worn parchment and slightly faded ink. “She’s more than five moons gone now,” he said softly. “Gods only know when she penned this. If it had a date upon it, it is gone now.”

“Will you send a reply?” Robert asked him.

“Aye. She needs to know that I received her news. Most any castle in these parts should have ravens trained for Riverrun. I’ll write to her on the morrow.” _Although I have no idea what I’ll say._

“You should write Benjen, too,” Robert encouraged him. “If your brother knows there’s an heir to Winterfell at Riverrun, he’ll make certain the babe’s brought north as well.”

“Aye, he would,” Ned agreed, “And I’ll gladly write and tell him he’s to be an uncle. But Catelyn will take my child north.” He smiled at Robert. “I should sleep now. I don’t know when I last had this much ale, and I would like to be able to rise from my cot in the morning.”

Robert laughed and sent him on his way.

He didn’t go directly to his tent, however. He walked to a nearby clearing in the woods where he could look up and see the stars. He sat down on a large stone and stared up at them for a long time, wondering what his child would be like and remembering when he and Catelyn had discussed the making of children.

_He did not bed her at all on the second or third nights after their wedding. They continued to share a single chamber, for that was expected of them. He did insist some chairs be brought in that they might sit comfortably and converse with each other, but otherwise the room was unchanged. Lying beside her in that bed without touching her was difficult, but he feared she might be sore. He had wiped her blood from his cock after their first coupling and he had seen her blood on the sheets the next morning. He had no desire to hurt her._

_They spent a great deal of time together during the days, and she showed him the places she swam as a girl, introduced him to her favorite horse, took him to the top of the tower which she proclaimed had the best view of the surrounding countryside. She asked endless questions about Winterfell and impressed him with the amount of knowledge she already had, gleaned from reading books in Riverrun’s library._

_They did not talk about their bedding. They rarely spoke about his upcoming departure for the war. They both seemed intent on getting to know each other in little ways. Her sister Lysa, on the other hand, seemed to wish to spend as little time in Lord Jon’s company as possible, and most of the time Ned and Catelyn spent apart was due to Lysa’s demanding that her sister come and spend time with her. Those hours, Ned spent with Jon and Lord Hoster discussing the Rebellion, the state of Robert’s troops, and the rumored movements of loyalist troops._

_On the fourth night, he came to their shared bedchamber to find his wife sitting naked upon the bed._

_“Why have you not bedded me again?” she asked with her characteristic bluntness. “You told me I did not displease you. Did you speak truly?”_

_“I spoke truly,” he said cautiously, “but I have no wish to hurt you again.”_

_“I would like a child.”_

_He looked at her. “What?”_

_“A child,” she repeated. “That is the purpose of this marriage, is it not? To ensure an heir for Winterfell? To join our houses in strong alliance through that heir?” She bit her lip. “How are you to get me with child if you will not bed me?”_

_“My lady,” he started, sitting down in a chair across from her and attempting unsuccessfully to ignore her nakedness. “Cat. I would be very pleased with a child, but I will not cause you needless pain.”_

_“I should hope not,” she said. “But if there is pain in this, it is hardly needless. Our bedding is needful, for otherwise no child will come.”_

_“We shall have years for children, gods willing, my lady.”_

_She’d looked down at her hands for what seemed a long moment. “And what if the gods are not willing?” she finally asked softly. “You ride to war, Ned. We cannot know that you will return. Brandon promised he would return.”_

_He didn’t like to hear her speak of his brother. It was foolish to be jealous of a dead man, still more foolish to be jealous over a woman he barely knew, regardless of the fact he was wed to her. Whatever feelings she had for Brandon, they were hers, and he had no right to take them from her. “He promised foolishly,” he said. “I will not promise you something that is beyond my power to control.”_

_“I know,” she said, looking at him carefully. “I would promise to bear you a child, if I could, but even if you bed me daily until you ride out, I cannot promise your seed will grow. I can promise you it won’t if you do not bed me at all, though. And since we cannot know that you will return, I would at least give you the chance for your line to continue.”_

_He looked at this woman, his wife, and wondered if she would ever cease to surprise him. “All right,” he said after a moment. “But you must allow me to do something for you.”_

_She raised her brows._

_“I will find pleasure in bedding you, Cat. As soon as I remove my breeches, you will see for yourself what simply looking at you without your clothing does to me.”_

_She flushed at his words, and he smiled to see it._

_“I would like to give you pleasure, my lady. Before taking my own.”_

_“I . . .I don’t know what you mean.”_

_“I know you were shocked when I touched you, but if I am not mistaken, you did not dislike that touch once you allowed it.”_

_She flushed more deeply. “I . . .I . . .did not dislike it.”_

_He nodded. “Good. Then I would ask you to trust me. I would like to give you pleasure, just as you have given it to me. Please, Cat.”_

_She bit her lip once more. He found the gesture endearing. “All right.”_

_Thinking about touching her had made him even stiffer than the sight of her nakedness had so when he removed his clothing, he was completely erect. He saw Catelyn’s eyes go to his cock and then look quickly away. She was still more afraid than she admitted._

_“Come here,” he said, and he motioned for her to rise._

_He pulled her into his arms and began to kiss her with both of them standing beside the bed. He moved his hands up and down her back from her scalp to her arse, caressing her skin as his lips and tongue explored hers. Her arms were wound around his neck and he felt her fingers grasp at the back of his head, moving in his hair as they kissed._

_When he moved his lips down to kiss her neck and even suck gently on the skin there, he heard her little intake of breath, but he did not think it was discomfort or fear this time. He laid a hand over one of her nipples and felt it stand up beneath his fingers. He raised his eyes to hers then._

_“I am going to kiss you here,” he said. He didn’t phrase it as a question, but he did wait for her to respond. Her eyes widened, but she nodded, and he put his lips to her nipple, sucking it gently as he continued to move his hands over her. He was rewarded by a soft moan that most definitely did not speak of pain._

_Slowly, lest he startle her, he trailed one hand down her belly until it hovered just above her sex, and he played with the soft curls at the top of the bright triangle. She whimpered a bit, but she didn’t pull away. He raised his head from her teat then and returned his lips to hers, kissing her deeply as he used one hand to pull her more tightly against him and put the other one on her little nub. He began to rub it in a circular motion, and she moved against his fingers, grinding her hips into his hand as she returned his kiss._

_When he finally pulled away from her, they were both panting, and she had a slightly unfocused look to her eyes. “Lie down, Cat,” he told her. “Lie back on the bed.”_

_He saw her swallow and did not miss the fear that crept back into her eyes, causing the desire to retreat a bit. “It is all right,” he told her._

_She lay down and looked surprised when he knelt between her legs rather than stretching himself out above her. He put his hand back to her sex, this time allowing his fingers to tease the entrance there as well as massage the little nub. She was already much wetter than she’d been when he’d bedded her on their wedding night, and he thought that he’d been far too impatient with her then._

_She moved her hips beneath his hands and the look of raw need on her face sent a jolt through his cock that threatened to undo him._

_“Ned,” she panted, and he knew that she was asking him for something, even if she didn’t truly understand what she was asking._

_He took his hand away and she whimpered. “Please,” she said._

_“I am going to kiss you here, Cat,” he said, barely able to speak for the raggedness of his own breathing as he watched her. Her eyes widened once again, but she did not stop him as he bent his head between her legs._

_He’d never actually done this, but he’d heard Brandon speak about it often enough. Robert, too. They both said women enjoyed it greatly, and from the way Catelyn suddenly bucked beneath him when his tongue touched her nub, he decided they were right. He loved the taste of her, and he could feel how she became even slicker as he moved his lips and tongue against her sensitive flesh. He held her hips with both hands to keep her still beneath him and he felt both her hands come down to grip his head, her long fingers once more moving in his hair._

_Just when he thought he’d have to stop before he spilled himself on the bed simply from the excitement of what he was doing to her, he felt her entire body tense and then jerk hard. She cried out and he looked up quickly in fear that he’d hurt her again, but her eyes were shut tightly and her mouth open in an expression that he did not think was pain. He put his mouth back on her and continued what he was doing until he felt her go still. Then he looked up at her again. Her eyes were open this time, looking up at him in wonderment. Her breasts rose and fell with her panting breaths and he could wait no longer._

_He raised himself above her and pushed himself into her. He felt no resistance this time, only the slick wetness of her sliding over him as he moved in and out. She put her arms around him and held him tightly just as she had done before, but he saw no pain in her face. He was finished quickly, spilling his seed with only a few thrusts._

_He tried to roll off her as he had before, but she held on to him, and when he rolled, she rolled with him, coming to rest with her head upon his chest. Neither of them spoke for some time._

_Finally, he said, “Did I give you pleasure, my lady?” echoing her own words from their wedding night._

_“Yes,” she breathed, but she sounded uncertain._

_“Cat?” he asked her. “Are you all right?”_

_“Yes,” she repeated. “But . . .do you think me wanton?”_

_He raised up then to look at her. There was genuine worry in those blue eyes, and he wondered precisely what that septa of hers had told her. “You are a married woman, my lady. Bedding with your husband. We should both find pleasure in it, and believe me when I say that your pleasure only increases my own.”_

_That was true, he realized. He’d gotten physical release from bedding girls in brothels, and those girls certainly behaved as if they enjoyed the act, although he supposed they would do that in any case. Yet, he’d never felt anything that compared to what had just occurred between him and Catelyn. He wished he could tell her precisely what he felt, but he didn’t have the words, and he doubted she’d wish to hear about his previous brothel experience in any event._

_“I am glad of that,” she said softly. After a moment, she said, “I do hope we make a child before you go. He will be a Stark of Winterfell, and I promise I will raise him in Winterfell even if . . .” She didn’t finish her sentence._

_He held her more tightly. “Even if I do not return,” he finished for her. “I thank you for that, my lady.”_

_She was silent for so long after that that he thought she had fallen asleep until she spoke again even more softly._

_“Ned?” He murmured to let her know he heard her. “I hope you do return, my lord. I hope so very much.”_

Ned did respond to her letter the next day, although he found putting his thoughts on parchment even more impossible than speaking them to her. He told her he was very pleased by her news, that he was well, and that he would endeavor all the harder to finish this war, find his sister, and return to her and their child.

Not long after that, they met the loyalist forces on the Trident, and when Rhaegar Targaryen fell dead into the bloodied waters of the river, Ned rode hard for King’s Landing hoping to finish this business once and for all.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

“Promise me, Ned.” 

Ned’s hands shook as he held his sister’s cold, pale hand between them. It already felt like the hand of a corpse even as she looked at him with pleading eyes.

“Don’t let Robert find him. Keep him safe. Promise me, Ned.” Lyanna’s voice was so weak, he nearly had to read her lips to catch the words, but her eyes burned with intensity as she pled with him. They burned with fever as well, and her face and chest were as hot as her hands were cold.

The room was hot, too, as the tower had baked all day in the insufferable Dornish sun. It was hot and it stank of blood--Arthur Dayne’s blood all over Ned’s armor, Lya’s blood all over the sheets of her bed. Ned felt dizzy.

“Hold on to me, Lya.” he said hoarsely. “I’ve come to take you home. Just hold on and stay with me.”

“Promise me, Ned,” she said again, as if all other words had lost their meaning for her.

“I promise, Lya,” he said, choking on the words because he knew that waiting for him to say them had been the only thing that kept his sister clinging to his hands, clinging to her life. “I swear to you I protect him as if he were my own. I promise, Lya.”

She smiled at him then, and the pleading tormented look left her eyes. She knew him well, and Ned knew that she believed he would keep his promise. He watched his sister take her last breaths, and then he laid his head upon her chest and wept as the fevered heat went out of it and it became as cold as the hand still held between his own. He remained that way until Howland found there some time later.

When Howland finally got him to leave that hot, fetid room, he carried the dark haired boy babe with him. The babe had not cried the entire time he’d been inside the tower, but as they stepped out into the sun, he began to bawl. 

“There’s a woman inside,” Howland said. “She told me she’s his wet nurse. The Lady Lyanna has been too ill to feed him.” 

Ned nodded numbly as he looked down at the squalling infant in his arms. Out in the bright sunshine, it was even more apparent that the babe had a Stark face. Ned saw nothing in him of Rhaegar Targaryen. _He looks like me,_ he thought. He wondered what his own son looked like, and he touched the place on his armor beneath which rested the pocket in his doublet which carried the letter he’d received just after leaving King’s Landing. 

Robert had sent a rider out of the Red Keep with that letter, tearing after him at a gallop so that he could learn of his son’s birth before he arrived at Storm’s End to break the siege there. He knew it was Robert’s effort to make amends, to close the rift between them. He was grateful for it, but still he saw those murdered babes--Rhaenys and Aegon Targaryen, not merely killed, but brutally mutilated. And he saw the satisfaction in Robert Baratheon’s face as he looked at those dead babes.

 _Dragonspawn,_ he’d called them with no pity in his voice, only contempt, and Ned had walked away from him in disgust. Now, Ned looked at the crying babe in his arms. His nephew. Lyanna’s child--the only thing left of Lya in this world. And he knew what Robert would see. _Dragonspawn._ He sighed heavily.

“Take him to the nurse and let him feed,” he said, handing him to Howland. 

Relieved of his burden, he began to strip off his armor lest he melt in this infernal Dornish heat. Then he walked around the tower to the side where it cast a shadow and sat down in the shade to think. He was tired, and he wanted nothing more than to go home to Winterfell, to see his wife and his brother, to hold the son he’d never seen. Yet, there was still much to do. He had his dead men to see to, and the dead Kingsguard knights as well. He would bring Lya home to Winterfell, of course. That much, he was determined to do. He thought he should return the ancestral sword of House Dayne to Starfall while he was still here in Dorne. Gods knew he never intended to return to this place, and the thought Lady Ashara deserved at least that. For she had lost much, as had so many people in this war.

 _And why?_ Ned thought. _What was it for? What have we accomplished?_ They had seated Robert Baratheon on the throne, and Ned prayed he would be a good king. Surely, he would be a better one than Mad Aerys at any rate, but he feared his friend’s reaction when he learned of Lyanna’s death. He had still been determined to make her his queen, in spite of the talk that already had taken hold in King’s Landing before Ned’s departure that a ruined woman was not fit for a throne.

Certainly, Robert would not react well to the knowledge that Lyanna had been complicit in her own ruination, but Ned did not intend for him to ever learn that. No one would. It seemed that all who knew all the truth were dead now, leaving only Howland, himself, and this nurse who knew some of it. Howland would never speak a word. Of that, Ned was sure. And he would keep the nurse close by him until he knew what to do with her. But now, there was the boy. _My nephew. Lya’s child._ He had to explain the boy somehow.

He sighed and reached into his doublet, pulling out the letter like a talisman. It had become his habit whenever he was distressed. Catelyn’s words of their healthy son could soothe his troubled soul just as they had when he’d first read them.

_My lord,_

_You have a son, Ned. A fine, healthy son who is beautiful and perfect and will make you proud. I have never known as much joy as I have in our son, and I cannot wait for you to see him. I am well, and you needn’t worry about either of us._

_I received the letter you sent from King’s Landing. and so I knew to send this there. I hope it finds you quickly. And I hope you find your sister quickly as well. I hope this war is truly almost at an end and that you will return safely to us very soon._

_I confess that as much as I love Riverrun, I am anxious to bring our son to Winterfell for that is his place as it is yours. I have named him Robb. I hope you approve. It seemed fitting to name him for the king his father helped crown. It is a lordly name for a future Lord of Winterfell._

_I pray for you daily,_

_Catelyn_

Whenever he read the letter, he always heard the words as if spoken by her voice. It surprised him how easily he conjured her voice when he’d spent only a fortnight listening to it. He often found it hard to remember the precise tone of Father’s or Brandon’s voices now, and he’d known them all his life. He’d long ago forgotten much about Mother’s voice and even the details of her face. But Catelyn’s voice and face were vivid to him.

 _Promise me, Ned._ He shuddered, thinking that he’d likely recall Lya’s face and voice in the final moments of her life all too vividly for the rest of his, and he hated to think that his other memories of her would pale in comparison to that one. _I will protect your son, Lya. I will think of a way._

He rose from the ground and went back to the door of the tower. He had no desire to enter that cursed structure again. He wished only to tear it to the ground. But he needed to see the child again. He found the woman holding the babe in a fairly large room on the ground floor. He was asleep against her chest.

“What is your name?” he asked her.

“Wylla, milord,” she answered.

“Dornish?”

“Yes, milord. I come from Starfall.”

He nodded. “How did you come to be here?”

“Ser Arthur sent for me, milord,” she said. “The babe needed a nurse when the lady took sick so soon after he was born.”

“And do you know who the lady was?” he asked her.

“I know only what I’m told, milord,” the woman said. “It doesn’t do a body any good to know more than that.”

Ned hesitated, thinking the woman obviously must know who Lyanna was, but seeing that she likely thought it wiser and safer to remain outwardly ignorant. He hoped that she could be trusted to always remain so. “We will travel to Starfall when we leave here,” he said. “I intend to return Ser Arthur’s sword to his sister.”

“That’s good of you, milord,” she said mildly.

“You know I killed Ser Arthur, don’t you?” he asked her, wondering if this woman from Starfall would speak as courteously to him if she did know that.

The woman shrugged slightly, careful not to disturb the sleeping child. “Well, it’s war isn’t it? That’s what happens in a war. Men kill each other. And often times, they kill women and children and babes as well. It’s war.”

“Indeed,” Ned said sadly. “I would like you to come with us to Starfall since you say that is your home. If it would please you, I would then have you accompany us to Winterfell, It is a very long way, but I will pay you well. The child will need a nurse for some time.”

“Winterfell?” the woman asked in some surprise. “You’re taking the babe to Winterfell?”

“Of course, I am. He’s mine,” Ned said without thinking.

“Yours? Forgive me, milord. I didn’t realize.” The woman was looking at him shrewdly.

“No, I mean that . . .” Ned’s voice trailed off as he realized the potential of what the woman had said.

“Well, he does look a great deal like you, milord. Almost your very image. Of course, he also looks a great deal like the lady upstairs--that one I thought was his mother. I suppose that can’t be right, though, can it? If you’re his father, I mean.”

“No,” Ned said slowly, thinking carefully on the woman’s words. “She cannot be his mother.” That was the answer, of course. If Lyanna was not his mother, then no one would ever suspect that Rhaegar Targaryen was his father, and Robert would have no cause to fear or loathe him. It was plain that Wylla knew the truth of the matter, but if she were willing to spin whatever tale Ned gave her, and if he had her at Winterfell where he could watch her for at least the next two years, he could ascertain her trustworthiness and decide how to deal with her after that.

“His father,” he said almost to himself. “Yes,” he said with more conviction. “He is my blood. Will you come to Winterfell with us and be his nurse?”

He phrased it as a question, but he knew there was a tone of command in his words.

“Might as well, milord. I’ve got nothing keeping me here. Long as you don’t think I’ll freeze to death.”

“You won’t freeze,” he told her. “I promise you that.” 

He reached out to gently touch the sleeping infant on the woman’s shoulder, thinking that was the second promise he’d made on the child’s behalf that day. He looked carefully at the boy. He was obviously too small and young for anyone to believe he’d been conceived before his marriage to Catelyn. He touched the pocket that held the letter about his son once more, but this time it brought him no solace, only a new sort of torment. His sister’s child had to become his. There was nothing else for it. To live safely, the boy must become his bastard son. And he didn’t think Catelyn would forgive him that.

 _I could tell her the truth. I could ask for her word that she never speak of it._ How could he do that, though? How could he ask his lady wife to lie about a possible Targaryen heir? About a potential threat to Robert’s new crown? And would she even do it? _I honestly cannot know,_ he admitted to himself. _I do not know her well, for all I know that she is beautiful and honorable and lives by her House Words._ He realized that those very words might make it impossible for her to keep his secret. Would she knowingly jeopardize Robb’s inheritance by allowing Rhaegar Targaryen’s child sanctuary at Winterfell, or would she feel compelled to turn the boy over to Robert? Ned truly believed he could keep the truth from Robert forever, but if Catelyn doubted him . . .would she be willing to risk it? Either way, he’d be asking her to commit treason, and he wasn’t certain he had the right to do any such thing.

 _She will hate me,_ he thought miserably. _Oh gods, let her forgive me for this betrayal somehow._

“Are you all right, milord?’

“What? Oh, yes. I am fine. I . . .need some air.” He had been standing there with his hand on the sleeping babe completely lost in his own thoughts.

Now, he stumbled out in the sunshine again, finding it hard to breathe. This was the answer. He saw no other solution. But the question of what to tell Catelyn was an impossible one. If she knew the truth, the world must still not know it. All must believe he had shamed her and brought home a babe conceived from some illicit union during the war. Could she accept that? Could she allow her father, her sister, even her little brother to believe such a thing if she knew it were not true? Would lying to them be more painful for her than believing her husband had fathered this babe on another woman?

He pondered the questions for what seemed like hours, but in the end he decided he could not tell her the truth. Some secrets simply could not be shared with anyone. Not Catelyn. Not Benjen. Not anyone. The decision made, he began walking for a long way until he found himself in a small grove of trees. He sat down there and pulled his letter out once more, hoping to find some comfort in it again, but knowing that no comfort would come. He had made his promise. He had made his decision. And now he would live with the consequences. As would Catelyn and Lyanna’s son.

He closed his eyes and recalled his last night at Riverrun. They had made love twice before she curled up beside him in the bed.

_“It would seem you are eager to conceive a child, my lady,” he teased her. “I fear you have left me quite exhausted.”_

_“I would like a child, my lord,” she responded. “But I must confess . . .I was not thinking of babes just now.”_

_He laughed, thinking it nothing short of a miracle that he now found it so easy to laugh in her arms. He’d had nothing to laugh at for so long, and he would ride to war and possible death on the morrow. Yet he could laugh with this woman. And by the same miracle, she could laugh with him as well._

_“I had no thought of babes, either,” he admitted. “I thought only that I am fortunate in my wife.”_

_She was quiet then, and he wondered, as he had since he’d wed her, if she were thinking of Brandon and feeling that she was not as fortunate as she might have been._

_“I wish you didn’t have to go,” she said after a bit, and he heard the sorrow in her voice._

_“I would tarry if I could, but Robert is anxious for us to join him. He didn’t like giving us this long.”_

_He felt her nod against his chest. “And I know you are anxious to search for your sister.”_

_“I am,” he said simply. “In truth, my lady, I fear I shall have no true peace until I find her.”_

_“I would have you at peace, my lord.” She raised her head up to look at him. “I do hope you find her well, Ned. I know she is ever in your thoughts.”_

_“Aye,” he said softly. He reached up to stroke her hair as he looked into those blue eyes. “And once I have left here, I think you will be often in my thoughts, my lady.”_

_She smiled at him. “Pleasant thoughts, I hope. No fears. For I shall be safe here, and you will have no cause to worry for me.”_

_“Oh, very pleasant thoughts, indeed,” he assured her, and he was rather disappointed that the room had darkened beyond the point where he could appreciate her blush as much as he would have liked._

_“I won’t ask you to promise me you will return,” she said, suddenly serious. “But please promise me that you will try very hard to do so. That whatever happens with Robert, with the rebellion, even with your sister, that you will try to return safely. The North depends upon you. Your brother depends upon you. And now I depend upon you.”_

_He thought about her words. In her ever forthright manner, she was admitting that any number of things could turn out other than as they might hope. Yet, even in such case, she was asking that he come back if it were possible. That was a more difficult promise to make than a promise simply to strive for victory and safe return, but he thought she deserved it of him._

_“I promise I shall try,” he said. “I shall let nothing keep me from returning to my place if I am able.”_

_“Good. I trust your word, my lord.” She lay her head back down against him. “Now we should sleep. You ride out early in the morning.”_

And so he had ridden out early the next morning, after making love to her one last time and telling her that he would miss her while he was gone. Now, she would believe those words a lie. She would believe he had taken comfort where he found it, and that those few nights spent in her arms meant nothing more to him than a night spent with any warm bodied woman.

_I trust your word, my lord._

He thought it possible he may never hear those words from her again, and his heart broke just a bit at the thought that he might have killed something before it could ever truly be brought to life. But his decision was made.

_Promise me, Ned._

He would keep his promise to Lyanna. He would keep every promise he ever made to Catelyn as well, although she would never believe it of him. Sighing, he put the letter proclaiming his wife’s joy and pride in their son back into his pocket and rose to walk back to the tower. He had a great many things to do.

 _May the gods forgive me,_ he prayed silently but fervently. _And may they help my lady wife to do the same._


End file.
